


A short story that somehow turned into a morbid Scooby-Doo fanfiction

by rachelee



Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Other, Short Story, violence?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5797651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelee/pseuds/rachelee





	A short story that somehow turned into a morbid Scooby-Doo fanfiction

Daphne pushed open the old barn door slowly, and as she did it let out a long, drawn out creak. As she turned on her flashlight to investigate the abandoned building, she was greeted with the faint scent of old, rotting corpses. Cringing at the smell, she continued walking into the darkness of the building. Stray pieces of hay were strewn across the ground, covering the old blood stains hidden beneath. As Daphne kept walking, she heard a distant sound of a car running. When she first arrived at the barn, the only car there was hers. Daphne ignored the sound, thinking it was some older person trying to scare her off. As she neared the back wall of the barn, she shined her light across it.  
Daphne didn’t see the freshly skinned body she was approaching, all she saw with her light was a stray rat, soon to be killed by the same murderer that killed the unseen man. Daphne kept her light in front of her feet, sure to step on nothing but hay. She was doing well, until an owl screeched a wild hoot, and frightened, Daphne dropped her flashlight. As soon as it hit the ground, the off button was pressed down, leaving Daphne surrounded in the dark night.   
She reached down to find her flashlight, but when she did, she found her tool covered in a sticky substance, almost like syrup. Daphne let out a loud shriek, as she didn’t think anything fresh was in the building. She was trembling in fear when a deep, rather familiar, voice penetrated the silent air.  
“Why, hello there,” the voice said. Daphne could feel the presence of a dangerous being walking in circles around her. Daphne knew the voice from somewhere, but she couldn’t remember who it belonged to.  
“Uh,” Daphne wiped her hand on her dress at an attempt to get the congealed blood off of herself. She drew her steps backward toward the door she had entered. She was almost at the door when a pair of muscular arms caught her. She wiggled a bit, trying to get out of the man’s grip, which tightened with every move she made. “Let me go!”   
“Maybe in a minute,” the rough voice whispered into her left ear. In that moment, the man flipped on the barn light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Daphne gasped as she looked up around to see the man’s blonde hair, and realized who it was. “Freddie,” she said, afraid and confused, as if it were a question. Why is Freddie here, she thought, last time I heard from him he was in another country!   
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Daphne Blake,” Fred cooed in a false romantic voice. He picked Daphne up and walked through the abundant mass of bodies, careful not to pierce the remaining skin of the already mutilated corpses. “What brings you here? Where’s the gang?” Fred began to look around the barn, trying to see if the old crew was present.  
Daphne shockingly looked around at the lifeless piles of remains in disgust. “The gang’s not here, Fred,” she said in a monotone. The stray puddles of blood rippled beneath Fred’s feet as he continued to walk.  
“Well, where are they then?” Fred cackled, maniacally. A period of silence passed before Daphne spoke again.   
“Freddie, did you do this?” Daphne asked, motioning to the puddles of blood and piles of gutted humans. She was ready to vomit when she saw a skinless corpse half covered in flies.   
“Oh, no, I just enjoy the scent.” Fred said sarcastically. He laughed maniacally. “Of course!”  
Daphne asked, in utter terror, “Why?”  
Fred stayed quiet as he carried Daphne up the winding stairs leading to the above loft. With every step Fred took, Daphne fell back into her former lover’s chest, her heart pounding tremendously. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fred carried Daphne over to an old, rusty metal chair, where he sat her down gracefully. Daphne had nothing with her now, except her small handbag, which she held tightly against her chest, her fingertips turning white around the straps.  
Fred paced in circles around Daphne, thinking up an explanation to tell her for his mass killings. Finally, he thought of something that he thought was clever. His eyes squinted while he leaned down onto Daphne.   
“It’s nice to be on the mystery side of things,” he hissed into the girl’s ear.   
Daphne’s eyes widened and she gulped as Fred invaded her personal space.   
“And you’re next…” Fred started to say, pieces of his spit flying onto Daphne’s cheeks. He grabbed a small blade from the back pocket of his khaki pants, then held it up to the light. The reflecting light from the sharpened object glared across the wall behind Daphne.  
Soon Daphne’s heart began to race, and she let go of her purse. Fred guided his hand with the deadly blade towards Daphne’s pale, trembling neck. Before Daphne could scream for help, she was hushed by Fred’s warm finger. He was filled with adrenaline, about to make his next kill. He pressed the knife across the front of Daphne’s neck. As he slid the metal across her innocent skin, a thick crimson liquid streamed down the front of her dress. Red droplets splattered Fred’s button up shirt, but he’d have no trouble getting the stains out, for he had a coupon for a free tub of OxiClean. Fred wept as he watched the woman he had lost his virginity to choke on her own blood. A muted sound of terror came from Daphne’s mouth as Fred lay her down in the clean hay of the loft. He began to softly grieve into a nearby hay bale.   
After he had finished mourning his dearest love, he located his industrial steel cables and hooks, which he then used to hang Daphne from the exposed beams of the old barn. The moonlight shone on her hanging corpse that was dangling in a position that signified her angelic existence.


End file.
